๐๐ง๐ฒ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ง๐ / ๐๐๐ซ๐ข๐๐ง๐ง๐ ๐ฅ๐๐ง๐ค๐๐ซ
"thanks for coming." tolkien greets me at the door of sunset cove, his parents residence. the interior of their house is more elegantly modern than the other ones. if that makes sense. the house is less homely, more office like. the floors are cold. well- cold looking. we don't take our shoes off at the door.
he walks me to the expansive dining room, much larger than my own. the dining room leads to another large room through an open wall frame, but it's devoid of any furniture. a ballroom. the table is completely glass and can seat about 20. it's comically long, but not out of place in the extremely open floor plan. the chairs are funnily shaped, crafted specially for an alien spaceship. it's just one long strip of white in a seat form.
having already arrived, tolkiens closest circle is sat at the farthest end of the left side. jimmy and tweek sit across from craig and clyde, chatting avidly. blonde stan stares blankly into the distance from his position at the complete opposite side of the table. his friends aren't here yet.
they are dressed well, and on par with what's expected. jimmy is in a white button down with brown houndstooth slacks, and a matching tie. it isn't tied properly, leaving it loose and hung weakly around his neck. his obnoxious personality is every so slightly toned down, but still enough to draw attention to himself. he laughs loudly.
craig visibly grumbles at this and diverts his gaze from him, trying to escape association with him through little more than distracting himself. i watch him intently, my eyes burning into his face so harshly i swear they emit heat. resentment harbors within me. is this how bebe feels? his subconscious is alerted of my stalkerish behavior- a natural response we evolved- and he meets my eyes. now that he notices my staring, i no longer feel so transfixed. his hardened features diminish my confidence and now it's my turn to advert my line of sight, opting instead to look at tolkien with an expectant expression.
he looks confused for a moment before relenting a small 'oh'. tolkien guides me to a seat closer to stan than the others, but still uncomfortably alone in the middle. adjacent-to-the-middle.
we have two plates stacked ontop of eachother, two forks on the left of the ceramic, and a spoon and a knife on the right. a napkin tied together with a burgundy ribbon is laid on top of the dinner plates. an empty wine glass also makes an appearance.
kind of wish it was full right about now.
i slightly position my body to the right to look at stan- but more discretely then craig and with less intensity. i just want to see his new hair, not read his thoughts. or send a telepathic message; one that details my unhappiness with him and his reluctance to address it.
the blonde is definitely different! i wouldn't go as far as saying it's bad, but i would say he is bettter suited a ravenette. my eyes trail down from his new hair to his outfit. he is also clad in a white button down, but his has a few more buttons undone. it's tucked half heartedly on one side into his dark blue- not navy, wide-legged dress pants. the other half hangs out in the front. his appearance is more casual compared to the others, but not sloppy. he looks handsome despite his jarring new yellow hair color which clashes greatly with his color palette.
i wait around awkwardly for a bit before heidi walks in, guided by tolkien's mother. she slides into the seat on my right and smiles sweetly at me. "hey y/n!" she says cheerfully. her kind exposition makes me smile too.
"what took you so long?" i ask her, tilting my head prompting her to speak. we all left together but for some reason they were all lulling about in the lobby. "oh.. you know." her eyes drift to the ceiling silently. i don't bother following her gaze, i know nothing is there.
i hum at her vague response. i continue studying the room around me as more people file in, filling the empty seats. the last people to be seated are the hosts themselves, mr and mrs black. they sit at opposite ends of the head of the table. their presence commands attention, and they take notice of the silence in the room as workers enter. tolkien's father clears his throat.
a couple men come out with dark bottles and fill our perfectly clear glasses. they work from the outside in creating a mesmerizing display as they swiftly pour out the burgundy liquid into each cup before just as quickly moving onto the next. are they allowed to serve us alcohol? it is not actually alcoholic? i don't know.
kyle whispers in stan's ear and he simply nods his head and slides his glass over to kyle.
"craig, how's your mom?" tolkiens father asks. his voice isn't overly loud, but it booms in the open space and awkward atmosphere. "good." he states simply, not delving into more than what's polite. i don't know if one word answers are considered polite. "wonderful." he wraps up their short conversation- if you could call it that.
the table slowly grows in volume as people resume talking with those closest to them, awaiting their meal. 3 courses. then dancing and drinking to follow. a salad, lobster or something, then dessert. dessert is supposed to be a complete suprise, but i think tolkien mentioned it was chocolate related.
"where's your dress from?" heidi makes small talk with bebe at her right. bebe comes back into focus when she realizes someone is talking with her. she was staring at a wall, reminiscent of stan. it's like the entire room is just zombies. "probably like windsor or something, i'm not too sure." she shrugs, flipping her ponytail back over her shoulder. she plays with her eyelashes while her and heidi talk further.
clyde and wendy are sat next to one another, which is maybe not a great desicion. i wonder how informed mr & mrs black are of their little situation? they probably have the jist of it now thanks to their ourburst at tolkiens birthday party. oh my god- birthday dinner!
"happy birthday tolkien. this is great." i tell him abruptly, now remembering the entire point of our gathering. he is at my left so i don't need to yell it across the table, like jimmy who's doing everything but screaming his words at his friends. i don't know if i would call the whole thing 'great' but it's what's polite. "thanks for coming. again. these dinners are pretty boring, so i wouldn't have blamed you if you skipped it." he smiles sincerely. i could see how these dinners could get boring based off the drastic change in tone when his parents sat down, although that's not their fault. adults don't pair well with southpark's youth.
"is your birthday today or was it yesterday?" i ask him, although i'm sure i already knew at one point. "today. but most years the celebrating happens the day before." i can't tell if having a party before your birthday is sad or not. you're having a party still, but it's not on your actual birthday date. it feels ungenuine to me. does it matter? he doesn't seem to care; and if he does i'm sure the expensive gifts make up for it.
"oh." i say simply. a hair flutters down into my face, probably from me whipping my head around, so i tilt my head up to fix it. i'm careful of not completely running how i've styled it. i didn't notice the giant chandelier that hung above us when i walked in, but now i certainly do.
it's silver, and not a traditional chandelier, rather a large collection of modern light fixtures. it's a bunch of perfectly spherical incandescent bulbs strung on a tight silver chain in a vertical line. the opaqueness of the bulbs glass makes them look like little glowing pearls, and there's probably about 20 strands of them.
"what's wrong with you?" a voice peeks into my radius of hearing. i look down. it's wendy, focused on me. her tone isn't aggressive, more so curious. "what?" i start speaking before i'm cut off by bebe. "nothings wrong with her. whats wrong with you?" bebe breaks into the conversation. her manner of speaking is kept gracious, despite the animosity laced throughout her words. if it weren't such a organized setting, i have a feeling her infliction would be different. heidi waits for them to finish.
wendy's eye twitches, creasing her dark shadow. i cut her off as she opens her mouth. "bebe, please. she didn't mean it like that." i mediate between the two balls of fire. they are both so head strong and self-assured, i have no idea how they were ever compatible with eachother. especially when considering their stubbornness and outspoken nature.
bebe makes a small 'hmph' and returns back to her original state. wendy lingers within the previous conversation, sitting with an unreadable expression for a moment. her eyes refuse to tear away from bebe's side profile as she speaks to heidi. clyde pulls her back into reality and her perfectly lined lips contort into a soft smile.
eventually our first course is served. salad. "stone fruit salad with collard peanut pesto." the chef comes out to announce his preparation. his accent is thick with french. he bows his head then leaves, but not before being stopped by clyde. "what's in it?" he questions, poking at the fruit with his fork. the chef clears his throat then answers. "wedges of plums and nectarines, dressed in a savory pesto that consists of roasted peanuts, collard greens, and parmesan. fonio is dusted on top, providing a deepened flavor." he finishes. quite the monologue! a couple people begin eating at varying degrees of eagerness.
"i think i'm allergic to peanuts." butters says quietly. "no, you're not." craig tells him assuredly. butters takes a bite. he's fine.
"what's fonio?" clyde asks, again. his pronounciation is butchered so it sounds like he's saying 'phone-yo'. the chef grumbles. "it's a west african grain, similar to couscous, which are tiny steamed balls of pasta." he over explains for clyde. i don't know why he is so interested in what he eats all of a sudden. you could serve him rocks on a plate and he wouldn't know until he's being cut open by zeus.
wendy looks confused at clyde, jabbing her elbow into his side and shaking her head. "what?" he says with a mouthful of fruit. "don't do that." she eats more civilly. he swallows. "i was just curious." he mumbles and continues to stuff his face. i take a small swallow of my wine, drinking down the feelings of second-hand embarrassment. definitely alcoholic.
the salad is pretty good. it's nothing like anything i've ever been served before, if you don't count just regular fruit. which is what it mostly tastes like besides the huge amount of parmesan that shines through. it's just peaches if they were cheese flavored with grain on top- not very eye-opening and world crashing.
the main course looks.. different. bright red lobster tails sliced into strips are laid on top of a bed of tiny pasta that resemble squares from afar, but are actually stars. a charred lemon is alone on the side. it looks pretty good, but i don't have lobster often so i'm unsure.
i lean forward to peer at kenny, who looks incredibly excited. he loves seafood.
"grilled lobster tails with stelline and lemon." the chef announces. his eyes rest on clyde the entire time. craig whispers in his ear. the chef leaves promptly, using the time clyde is distracted to evade his questions.
the lobster is good, better than any i've ever had before. it's probably because we are on the east coast now. or maybe cause it's served by professionals and not red lobster.
half an hour lapses between our next course. the last couple minutes consist of excited chatter from the sweet craving guests. kenny and clyde like anything food related, but butters, tweek, and jimmy are specially interested in the last meal.
"choux au craquelin." it sounds natural coming out of the obviously french-native speaker. "what's that?" clyde quickly spits out the words before he can leave. to be fair, i didn't know what fonio was, but i can clearly tell what's infront of us is a cream puff despite the foreign name. but clyde isn't much of a thinker. obviously, considering this last week.
"cream puffs, filled with a whipped chocolate ganache, ontop lays a crunchy craquelin layer, akin to a cookie." he turns on his heel and exits, making a final bow of his head beforehand. i wonder if he's instructed to do so or it's just something he does out of respect.
clyde grabs the craquelin inbetween his index finger and thumb, then drops it onto the small plate with a loud crackling. he shattered the delicate cookie. "i don't want it." he reasons childishly, noticing the eyes centered on him at the sudden sound. the room is mostly quiet as we eat.
"that was wonderful." mrs. black says to the entire table. everyone's finally done now and we can move on from dinner. "yes. shall we dance?" mr. black speaks in an unauthentic british accent and gets up from his seat, walking slowly towards his wife. they meet in the middle and he bows, taking her hand.
there isn't any music yet but that's quickly remedied and soft piano fills the air. they waltz into the ballroom beautifully, melting into one another and blending into the elegancy of their home. the rooms don't feel so cold anymore watching their hearts dance together.
tolkien follows suit, resting his hand on the small of nichole's back as they enter the ballroom. he gives a look to the oblivious clyde who immediately turns to wendy, asking her to dance. she obliges and they follow behind tolkien and nichole.
bebe watched the entire charade. her tongue pokes through her cheek as she looks around the table. "stan, dance with me?" she slinks around his chair and holds her palm out to him. he turns around to face her, holding eye contact for a moment before accepting her offer.
"y/n, would you dance with me?" his voice is soft and gentle. he speaks slowly, leaving me to linger on every word.
kenny asks me in a similar way bebe had. i smile, nodding my head yes and resting my hand on top of his. the metal of his rings is cold against my skin, but strangely comforting in its own way too. he pulls me up unexpectedly and spins me, twirling my dress around. i laugh at his spontaneity and smiling face and we hold hands as we join the others in the ballroom.
the song hasn't changed and keeps it's consistent pattern. he drops my hand, but only to move it to my waist. he keeps it respectful and doesn't attempt to grab my ass. suprising!
i drape my right arm over his shoulder and we move together in a slow dance. kenny is comforting and familiar, like going home after a long day. maybe it's cause i've known him so long, but despite that we've never truly connected.
he's always been confident in himself and knows exactly what to wear and how to style himself to extenuate his features and he doesn't usually deviate from that. tonight, he wears a deep, ebony, black shirt that make his blond hair and silver piercings stand out.
we turn in circles, making soft movements revolving around each other. my smile hasn't faltered an ounce since i left the table, and neither has kenny's. we predict eachothers path before it happens, our minds melding together to become one. i'm not sure if my feet leave the ground or not but i feel like i'm floating regardless. he occasionally spins me, but it's not a nauseating spin; it's fluid and natural. we sway in perfect harmony.
i connect my hands behind his neck and he brings his other hand to my waist, resting them on my hips. we are so close now i swear i can feel each breath he takes. the spinning figures in the background fade away, leaving just me and kenny dancing together. as we dance in sync i can't remember the melody anymore, but it doesn't matter; it's replaced by the rhythmic beating of our hearts, which are also in sync.
i am incandescently happy, a beacon of light. our movements don't require any thought, which is good because my mind can't focus on anything else besides how irrefutably happy i am, and kenny's shared expression.
"time to switch!" i'm broken out of my trance by the loud voice, but before i can think i'm pulled away from kenny in a swift, methodical turn. i'm spun into craig's arms as everyone changes partners in a similar fashion, connecting with one of the partners from the duet closest to you.
craig and i's formation is stiffer than how it was earlier with kenny, no doubt owing to our awkward encounter two days ago. we weren't ever that close before this trip, which seems to be a pattern with a lot of the people i'm here with. either way, we were starting to become friends until craig blurred the lines between us at the beach. he hasn't spoken a word to me since, which would be normal if he hadn't kissed me and if we weren't starting to become friends. or at least thats what i thought.
we move slowly in a calculated dance, not quite effortless. him and kenny are both skilled dancers, more so then i thought they would have been. my thoughts aren't in my head so much anymore, and i focus mostly on craig. his eyes are sorrowful, swirling with words unspoken. "i'm sorry." he finally releases, taking a deep breath after apologizing.
i don't respond. what could i even say? 'it's okay', 'don't be', 'whatever'. he continues, taking my silence as an opportunity to complete his thought throughly. one that actually shows the depth of his sincerity instead of a forced admittance.
"i should have said that sooner, and i'm sorry for that too." we sway slowly to the new keys played by the piano. i appreciate craig's apology, and i'm glad he's not keeping up his unreachable facade. "i kissed you back. it's not all your fault." i respond.
"that's not what i'm apologizing for. im sorry for making it weird between us." he brings me in closer, one of his hands on the side of my waist, the other tightly holding my hand. "it's not weird." i deny, shaking my head. i move my hand up from his shoulder to his neck, replicating me and kenny's original position. he stares blankly, not agreeing with my statement.
"well." i admit it was weird.
he's taller than me and in our close proximity he has to look down to meet my eyes. "can we go back to how it was?" he asks, gently rubbing a circle with the hand on my waist. it's oddly comforting. "what? friends?" i reply. we revolve around together, following the path of the other dancers. our noses are millimeters away from eachother. "yeah." he swallows nervously, and visibly. he breaks our eye contact and stares at our intertwined hands.
"of course." i smile again. he spins me around.
"this shit blows." jimmy mumbles from the sidelines. he can't quite slow dance comfortably, and no one asked him. "you're telling me." kyle responds. he plays with his hair, watching the people dance as they switch back to their original partners. "craig likes heidi?" he asks jimmy, removing his gaze from the mesmerizing scene to face him.
"what? no." he says confused, squinting his eyes at him. if he does, craig has never said anything. he doesn't usually talk about who he's interested in though. very private guy. "why are they dancing together than?" kyle swirls
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